


i don't wanna pretend we're something

by coupe_de_foudre



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Blake is grumpy when tired, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Scho is just always grumpy, Sleeping Together, mentions of Scho's wife, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre
Summary: Blake shushes him, blue eyes pleading. “You’re soft and warm and I don’t want you to move. Please. Stay.”Schofield knows it’s wrong, but (and this is what he always gets stuck on) if it’s so wrong why does it feel so right?
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 10
Kudos: 169





	i don't wanna pretend we're something

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt from [Tumblr](https://a-beautiful-struggle-of-life.tumblr.com/)! Tysm, I hope y'all enjoy <3

* * *

Schofield sighed, eyes sliding closed as he rests his head to the tree behind him. The sun brings a welcome warmth after months of bad winter weather, casting a soft glow over his face. He can hear the quiet shuffling of Blake beside him, settling into a comfortable spot on the still dewy grass. 

“Fuckin' lumpy ground, man.” the young Lance Corporal complained. Schofield peaked through his lashes, watching the boy push himself up onto his elbows to look at Schofield from his previous position of lying on his back. “How can you sleep like that?”

Schofield shrugged. “It's not so bad.”

Blake huffed. “Easy for some, I guess. You'd think I'd be used to this by now.” 

Schofield reached his hand out, fingers brushing against Blake's leg, but they quickly retreat. “Everyone's different.” 

Blake scoffed, either not noticing Schofield's wandering hand or merely ignoring it for fear of an awkward conversation. “Like how you’re a miserable old git and I’m a gorgeous, strapping lad?” Schofield rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth twisting up. 

“At least I have a tree to sleep on.” He bites back, but there's no mean-intent in his words. 

Blake chuckles, that lovely deep sound that always pulls Schofield in like thick honey, and before Schofield has the chance to realise what he's doing Blake is moving to crouch next to him. He props his face up with his hand, frowning at Schofield. “Yeah, now that you mention it, how come you always get the tree? Reckon you should share.”

Schofield raises an eyebrow. “You reckon, do you?”

Blake nods. “It's only fair. Never see you sleeping on the ground." the younger man teases. Schofield groans, but he can’t help the flutter in his chest at the thought of letting Blake sleep against the tree with him. He can hardly keep his thoughts at bay just being around Blake, let alone sleeping pressed up against him.

“I did my fair share of sleeping on the ground at the Somme.”

Blake groaned, throwing his head back. “Oh, fuck off.” Schofield just grunted in response, allowing his eyes to close again. There was a small laugh, followed by further shuffling, but Schofield didn’t think anything of it until he felt hair tickling his face. “This is much better.”

And, oh God, there was those thoughts again. Absolute sinful thoughts of Blake, soft and warm and perfect in so many ways. Schofield shouldn’t be thinking of Blake like this; he has a wife. He shouldn’t be wanting to stroke his hair or wrap his arms around him or... _kiss him._

Sneaking a look down, Schofield fights back tears that threaten to fall. Being at war has left him feeling so...alone? Physically, if that was even a possibility. The heavy weight on his shoulder is comforting, added with the gentle breathing as Blake slowly drifts in and out of sleep. It feels quite surreal, and Schofield is suddenly overwhelmed and feels ashamed for the simple touch having such a huge effect on him. 

He shuffles, trying to pull his shoulder away whilst not allowing Blake to fall, but a hand quickly reaches out and fingers wrap around his wrist. Frozen, Schofield looks down to see Blake blinking tiredly up at him. The younger man tilts his head, nose brushing over Schofield’s skin and sending shivers down his spine. 

“Don't leave.” the whisper is hot against him, but Schofield is focused more on how vulnerable those two words left Blake sounding.

Pulling his arm from Blake's grasp, he clears his throat. “I...I can't-”

Blake shushes him, blue eyes pleading. “You’re soft and warm and I don’t want you to move. Please, stay.”

Schofield doesn’t speak. He’s not sure what to respond with. Does Blake mean it in a strictly comfort sense? Or was there more meaning behind them? Was Schofield letting his own thoughts get in the way of rational thinking?

He’s pretty confident on the latter, as he allows his hand to drop back down to Blake's. Although, it must have been the right thing to do because Blake’s now smiling at him and lacing their fingers together – his thumb rubbing over Schofield's knuckles.

Schofield knows it’s wrong, but (and this is what he always gets stuck on) if it’s so wrong why does it feel so _right_? 

Blake doesn’t say anything else, and Schofield makes no move to break the comfortable silence that’s settled around them, so the younger man returns to his earlier position of resting his head on Schofield's shoulder. 

As he does so though, his lips skim over Schofield’s jaw and heat floods through his body at the contact. The feeling is one of familiarity, a mix of relaxation and arousal combined perfectly. And, really, it should remind Schofield of his wife back home. Only, it doesn’t because instead Schofield is suddenly bombarded with make-believe images of kissing Blake breathless, hands travelling over that smooth skin and learning every trick in the book that will unravel the confidence the young soldier has. 

“I think it's adorable how easily you blush.” Blake says, voice snapping Schofield from his thoughts despite how soft it is.

“I'm not...” Schofield starts, only to realise that his face _does_ feel heated. “Shut up.” He can only hope that Blake is oblivious to what exactly it was that made him blush.

“Anything for you, Will.” Blake smiles, although Schofield can’t see it but he can hear it. And then there’s a feather-light kiss being pressed to his cheek followed by a suppressed giggle. Schofield is unable to react, which is probably for the best, as Blake settles back down.

He’s not sure how long they were laying there in silence, but when Schofield notices that Blake’s breathing has slowed he smiles at the knowledge that he at least finally fell asleep. Not wanting to wake the other, Schofield carefully slid his hand from Blake's loose grasp and pulled his arm out from where it was now uncomfortably squished between them. Wrapping it around Blake and gently pulling him closer, he pushes away any judgemental thoughts that arise. 

In Blake’s insistent twisting and turning earlier as he’d tried to sleep, he’d managed to pull his shirt up. Schofield hadn’t realised until his hand came to rest at the man’s side and he felt the cool skin beneath his thumb. He smiles, tracing shapes onto the skin and marvelling at how peaceful this whole moment feels. It’ll probably change in a couple hours, when Blake awakes and they either pretend nothing happened or decide to awkwardly talk about it. So, for now, Schofield decides not to think about that.

Schofield turns to press his lips to soft brown curls that tickle his throat, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. The last thing he remembers before allowing himself to drift into a light slumber is that, if he could stay here like this with Blake for eternity, he’d be perfectly content.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously can't get enough of writing these soft boys. Thanks for all the love and support shown on my previous fics, y'all are so sweet omg <3


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